Not everyone is the same
by mymindisinspace
Summary: Sam is used to everyone not noticing her. She likes it that way. She does it on purpose to shut everyone out. So when she is noticed by a certain organization, things change. People actually like her. And when she finds there are others like her, her walls tumble down. I'm Sam. You don't know me. But you will. -Inspired by Maximum Ride by James Patterson
1. Chapter 1

It's a lot easier to hate than to love. A lot of people disagree with me. They think loving someone is a breeze. They think making up a conversation, that doesn't sound boring, is nothing. Trying to keep in touch over the years, is nothing. Having to smile or wave to that person when you see them is nothing. But when you hate someone, you don't have to talk to them. You don't have to keep in touch. You don't have to acknowledge their presence that is surrounding you. So, I'm going to say it again.

It's a lot easier to hate than to love.

If you are thinking I'm some depressed kid who is into drugs and hates the world. You're wrong.

I'm fifteen. I have a conscience. I have a family. I have good grades. And all my bodily functions are as clean as a shiny new spoon. I don't necessarily hate everyone, I just don't talk to them. And they don't talk to me either. So really it's a fair situation. Don't bother them, don't bother me. Win, win.

My parents think I should be more "involved" in our chaotic teenage society. If they think "hanging out" with these idiots is good for me, they need to have brain surgery. All these kids do is drink, have sex and do drugs. While simultaneously earning themselves a Golden Ticket to Willy Wonka's Jail Cell. Woop-de-doo sounds like a whole lot of fun!

And since when was high school's main subject Drama? Every time I walk through those metal doors, the first thing I hear is some girl screaming at another girl for either; stealing her boyfriend. Stealing something she loves. Talking behind her back. Or the girl is wearing the same thing, she's going to wear at a party. In conclusion, they're airheads. Not to mention the names are getting weirder and weirder by the generation. Princess, J-Dog, Roxy, Kat. Who names their child after a feline animal which carries fleas and coughs up hair balls? Not the most charming name in the book. My name is Sam. I like my name. Simple. No complications, no fancy background on where it came from, or who. And certainly no little hearts on the i's. Just... boring. Sums me up pretty good huh?

So you're probably thinking "Where's the big story? Where's the action packed run-away? The romantic sacrifice? The world-ending event?" Well, there isn't one. Not yet, that is. But who says I'm going to give it to you anyway? You might sell it online and give it to the police and next thing I'll be the one with the Golden Ticket, along with the other douchebags I unfortunately have to call classmates. But you've all I got, so you'll do.

Let's begin shall we?


	2. Chapter 2

Ah so you've survived the first chapter. I have to say, I'm impressed. Most don't make it this far. They click out of the window as soon as they don't see a death defying scene, or if I'm not making out with the high school jock.

So you're not one of _them._

This is interesting.

In case you're wondering...

Name: Sam Brown

Age: 15

Skin Colour: Light brown/tanned

Eye Colour: Deep brown

Hair Colour: Very deep brown (looks like black)

Height: 175cm

There you go. All the basic things about little ole me. But not everything. I have to warn you that there are some surprises you weren't expecting. Or you were. Either way you'll find out.

So what's my cheesy starting line?

Well...

It all started on Monday morning.

p.s how's that for cheesy?


	3. Chapter 3

**Alarm clock goes off**__

What is that noise... I thought. While keeping my eyes closed in their safe little sockets, I reached out into thing air on where I thought my torture device may be. I patted around the small surface of the drawer next to my bed while the short cries continued.

_And this is what I get for reading my book at night._

I reached out a little further by shifting my body weight so my upper half was hanging off the side of my head.

_Just a little more._

I still had my eyes shut but knowing where your alarm clock is. Is like knowing what comes after M in the alphabet. You just know.

By now my leg was also hanging off the side of the bed and touching the ground to keep me up right.

It's always this way. The deathly battle between alarm clock and victim. Normal people would wait until the alarm clock ceases its attack, but this isn't any alarm clock. Oh no, my person-who-I-call-mother, bought me an alarm clock that does not go off until _I, _the person's who's sleeping time is being intruded, defeats the evil dragon and becomes a hero.

Except, this evil dragon keeps coming back to life every morning and I don't get called a hero. Just lazy because I should be able to get up on my own. Ha! Yeah right like that's ever happened to anyone.

My hand encloses around the hard, cold device. Feeling it's scaly skin and sharp horns, I make out what is the snooze button. Three buttons in my the left. But just as I'm about to end the torture.

I fall.

On my head. And on my hard-wood floor.

The dragon won. But only this time. I shall beat you one day, you cruel beast! As you can tell, I have not much of a social life.

I turn off my alarm, at last, and rub where my head hurts.

Curse you human invention. I bet you were waving from your shelf for my mother to pick you up, weren't you? Hey! Don't you turn off on me! I'm mind talking to you! Don't make me tell the plug on you! Oh yeah, that's right! I went there! I went to the source and back bucko!

"Honey what's all that noise?" My mother stared at me while she stood in the door way with a worried look on her face.

I was too busy wacking my alarm clock and arguing with it, that I didn't even hear her walk up the stairs.

"Are you hitting your alarm clock again? I told you to stop do that. It costs money and..."

"Mum. It's Monday. Also known as "hit and argue with alarm clock because you have no friends." Look, it's on the calender." I pointed at my plain calender that has a picture of a kitten on it.

She looked at me with her usual expression, when I use sarcasm. Totally blank.

"At least you're out of bed" she said before turning around.

"Not a technique I think I'll use again." I said while rubbing my head.

"They really should include that in the description box! WARNING: May cause frustration and make you fall out of bed and hit your head. USE AT YOUR OWN RISK!" But by then she was already gone down the stairs to the kitchen.

I sat there for a while. Just doing what you usually do when you sit. Sitting. I tapped my fingers on the floor and puffed my cheeks. I looked down at my baggy Mickey Mouse shirt, that belonged to my mum, and my black with white lines, boxer shorts. I have great fashion sense.

After about 5 minutes of just sitting. I got up and hopped my way downstairs while trying to put on some socks on at the same time. Not as easy as you think. Involves a lot of slipping.

I jolt down the stairs to the smell of bacon. Food can make you do crazy things, like getting up from bed. I glance down at the kitchen and drool from all the food. P.S diets do not exist in my world.

Mondays aren't so bad when bacon is involved. (Sorry if your vegetarian)

**PAUSE**

Now is a pretty good time for me to introduce to the fam-bam and what my house looks like. Correct? Okey dokey.

As you have met before, my mother is called Alice and she's 45. She has pale skin but jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. My mums pretty slim for a woman her age and works as a nurse down at the local doctors. Which means she tells me I have to keep my room tidy. ALL. THE. TIME.

You haven't met my dad yet but you will, in the next scene. I resemble him more than my mum. He has tanned-ish skin like me, but a little darker and deep brown hair. I have the same eyes as him but he has little wrinkles around them. He's pretty tall and often wears glasses when he reads. He works down at the lab. He experiments whether or not things are safe to be released into the world. His name is Jeff. He's 48.

I have no siblings. Sometimes it sucks, sometimes it doesn't. But I'm too distracted to wonder about what it would be like to have a sibling.

So that's the fam-bam, now the place I call home.

I live in a two story house near the woods in Windheight. Small-ish town, but not too small. Our house is, what I call, vintage. Like a cottage. Except, a big cottage. It has creamy stone walls with green vines climbing up the side. Kind of like Rupunzel, but more modern. The living room is right there when you enter and the kitchen is on the left. The stairs run up the side of the house on the far left of the house. So you can always sneak some food and run up stairs. When you reach the highest floor of the highest tower. You will find a long corrider. No not like in those horror films. The usual things are here. Bathroom, Parents room, guest room and right at the end is my room. I picked it because it looked out upon the woods. My room is pretty cool if I say so myself.

When you enter my room, you will find my bed tucked into the right side corner where the roof slopes. My closet is on the bottom-left corner of the room and my guitar, books, bags, music, sketch books are all in the top-left corner. There's a small rug in the middle of the floor and a dream catcher hanging over my bed. There's only one window in my room but it's a pretty good size. It's between my bed and my pile of awesome things. Below that is a small wooden draw where my alarm clock IS SUPPOSED TO BE!

It's not much, but enough. Because a) I'm not a real estate agent and b) because sometimes you gotta use a little imagination yourself, don't ya think?


	4. Chapter 4

After breakfast (which was very tasty, thank you very much lovable mother) I quickly ran up the stairs, trying not to slip. It failed.

"Ow.." I said while rubbing my knee. I swear the house is trying to kill or seriously injure me. Maybe you could buy my house? Ha! Good luck living in it.

With record time, I made my bed (sort of) and picked up a few bits and bobs. (That's if you count chucking them all on your bed) All while putting on some clothes for my (horrible) lovely school.

I opened my curtains and glanced upon the woods. They were peaceful, as always. The trees stood closely together, as if guarding the outside world from entering.

Mum didn't like me going into the woods alone. But it's kind of hard when your an only child and your parents are working full time. So I usually just go alone.

No the woods do not hold some "secret fortress" or some magical thing that shouldn't exist, if that's what your thinking. It only is home to a pack of wolves.

Yeah I know, magical secret fortress sounds a lot less dangerous than reality. But it's fine. I've only seen one wolf in my whole entire life. When I was little. But that's another story for later. Pretty interesting actually. If you thought that I'm weird now? You're going to be shocked when you find out about little-me.

"Ok Sam! I'm going! See you later ok?" Mum yells from the front door.

"Yeah mum! Say bye to dad for me too k?"

"Bye sweetheart!" The door closes and I'm engulfed in a swarm of silence. The floorboards creak and the windows shake slightly. In theory, it's Summer. In reality? It's Winter all year round. Hint the "Wind" bit in our towns name "WindHeight".

I finally tear my gaze from the window only to see a flash of grey catch my eye. Most wolves in this part of the country are grey. There easier to spot like this.

The wolf doesn't care that it's been seen. That it's enchanted, mysterious presence is being watched. It just walks, ever so slowly, down a path I made a few Summer's ago. It was almost out of my sight when it turned and stared at me with bright golden eyes.

A chill went down my spine.

It then decided to take off, running deeper into the forest. Once again, it was behind those tall guardian trees.

I grabbed my woollen coat and headed out the door. Staying clear from the woods. I don't want to be bacon for them wolves. Maybe they smell the bacon? Those wolves have good taste if they like bacon. Maybe I should start a conversation with them? It would probably go like this:

"Hi what's your name?"

_-snarl- _

"That's an interesting name! My name's Sam. Not very creative like yours. I say, are you French?"

And then the wolf would kill me and I would never be able to taste chocolate chip ice cream ever again. So sad.

My steps echoed on the footpath. There were a few houses down our street. But no-one came out to walk their dogs or say hi to the other neighbours. All the big houses are down Windy Ave. I know, ironic.

I walk up to my, ever so lonely, bus stop and wait.

The wind rustles my long hair and I draw my coat in closer.

The bus arrives 5 minutes late. Per-fect. I jump on. Take a seat in the middle. And close my eyes. But all I see is someone's else's eyes. Some_things_. And how I don't want to ever look away.

I glance out the window as the bus pulls up to our local highschool.

Girls are dressed in the shortest of shorts and tops with no sleeves. They don't care that it's windy and cold. All they think is "Summer" aka "Dress in the smallest clothes possibly".

They laugh at what others are wearing and don't care that the person has noticed.

Bitches.

God you gotta love highschool...


	5. Chapter 5

My highschool isn't that big. People say that's a good thing.

I think it's bad. Very, very baaaaad.

Everyone knows each other. So you can't go hide in the corner of the class and be unseen. Like me.

There are some good things about having a small highschool.

less traffic in the hallways

more food

less noise

and my personal favourite

everyone knows not to bother you

Unfortunately, not everyone seems to think the same way as I do.

I quietly stepped down from the bus's steps and held on to my scarf as the bus blew hot air in my face.

There were 2 types of people who waited at the front of our school.

The sluts/"popular" people.

And the wanna-be freshman.

I didn't belong to either. Being a sophomore wasn't so bad. But being a sophomore with most of the "slutty club" is a total nightmare. But I didn't cower under their reign. I simply walked right past them with my head held high and my eyes straight ahead.

They didn't snicker or comment about me. They wouldn't dare.

Although I didn't wear the most "revealing" clothing in the industry, I had some pride in my wardrobe. Must of it contained vintage sweaters and old rock t-shirts. Today I was wearing an old over-sized military jacket, an Abbey Road black Beatles t-shirt, Dark Blue jeans, Un-tied combat boots, a white scarf and my old grandfathers watch. I was risky. Most girls in this town wore bright tie-dyed shirts. But I stuck with my classy vintage style.

Even though they didn't snicker, they stared. When I first started high school, I had been told that I had great fashion sense. So I knew they weren't silent because my outfit was terrifying. All of them had dyed straightened hair and flew all over the place when the wind blew. I didn't want the hassle, so my hair was put into a high ponytail. My curls bouncing slowly with the wind.

I walked through the glass doors that was considered the "entrance" to our school and made my way down the corridor.

While hoisting my bag further on my shoulder, a few heads turned. Heads of the opposite sex.  
I'm not going to lie, but I'll try not to brag. I had my fair share of looks. My skin was clear and had a natural tan that most girls would spend hours at the tanning salon to have. I had a slim/lean body from all the sports and running I do. My eyes were a little big that held deep brown puddles. I lips were full and had a little beauty spot on my chin.

I usually ignored their stares. I got flickers from guys who were talking to their girlfriend, but the girlfriend would notice and glare at me. I tried to look as innocent as possible. My looks were one of the main reasons the pops wanted me in their group.

I had always lived in WindHeight but I attended kindergarten outside of town. When I started highschool, I was welcomed with warm smiles. But I had heard about these kids. I knew them but they didn't know me. I was prepared.

I knew who not to be friends with and who I could trust. It was quite hard to find the right friends when the pops were hanging off your shoulders, inviting you to every gathering you could think of. Sleep-overs, mall stops, movies. All on the list of things they wanted me to attend. But one by one I declined. At first they were very persistent. But they soon got the message. They started to spread rumours about me. That I was adopted and shagged my Elementary teacher. They thought I didn't want to hang out with them was because I was better than them. So I walked up to their table in the cafeteria and told them that I didn't want to hang out with them was because I wasn't like them. I read books, I drew, ran in the woods, fixed things with my dad. They painted each others nails, read magazines and gossiped about boys. They wouldn't go near anything that would ruin a perfect manicure.

After that the rumours ceased. They retreated to their kingdom and I retreated to mine. Classmates told me that respected me for what I did. No-one stands up to the pops. Like any other high school novel I've read, the pops were royalty and I was the stable boy.

But I was a cool stable boy.


End file.
